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THE SURFER WHO DOESN'T SURF

Dex

I hack into her search history.

She seems to have been spending a lot of time on housing websites.

Oh no, she’s picked the other side of the coastal range. It’s gorgeous out there, but it’s really remote. They have a real small-town vibe there, and if you’re not part of the greater community through family, they’re not going to accept you. She’s really going to struggle with that.

It’s as clear as day. He’s trying to isolate her.

She has no idea what she’s getting into.

She’ll need a vehicle to get everywhere, and won’t just be able to walk around without Timmy. It’s a known drug haven, a place people go when they have no hope left. Lots of encampments, lots of meth.

This is going to be a fucking nightmare.

But I can’t exactly call her and say ‘hey, I was stalking you online and see that you’re looking to move to the sketchiest part of Sunset Cay. And no, you can’t live on the beachfront because that guy you’re crazy for, and think is your soulmate, is trying to isolate you. ’

That would not be well-received, and she’d never want to speak with me again.

I need more concrete evidence. I mean, I don’t want him to hurt her anymore. But I need him to dig his own grave in a way, just by being himself.

I’ve been researching stats on scumbags like hum, and the worst part of it is they’re just not likely to change. They can go through workshops and programs and to meetings every day for the rest of their lives, but they have to really want to commit. They need professional psychotherapy and multiple sessions a week.

And guys like this Timmy trash pile also tend to escalate in their behavior. Given he tried to kill her so soon after meeting, I’m really concerned.

But she seems so happy, and it seems like their communications have settled down a bit now they’re working on a shared project—finding a new apartment so he can physically isolate her. God damn it! Circular logic.

She thinks he’s the one. She thinks he’s really improved. She complimented him via text and he seemed appreciative. Lots of GIFs flying back and forth which go from cute to gradually more suggestive.

Gross. I look away.

I mean, if she was sending them to me, it would be one thing. My cock twitches at the thought as I watch their conversation grow more sexual in nature.

I really need to focus on fixing the situation with this Temu Timmy, the surfer who doesn’t surf. I’ll be monitoring his every move like a hawk. Logging every keystroke. Tracking him via his camera. He’ll have no idea, but I have a feeling that in addition to everything else, he’s being duplicitous to Margaux, and we can’t have that.

She deserves someone she can trust, the way she trusts me.

Someone just like me, in fact.

The fact her brother would never speak to me again is starting to wane in its impact. We’ve drifted apart so far now that I already speak with her way more than him. Besides, she’s way cuter. So you could say I ‘won in the divorce’ of it all, if you will.

I check my watch. Fuck, I’ve been reading their back and forth for way longer than I thought, and I need to pack up and get to work.

Not sit here all day being a voyeur, spying on a girl who will never be mine.

But who, regardless, I’m committed to protect.